


Afterword

by lois88



Category: Fringe
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-13
Updated: 2013-02-13
Packaged: 2017-11-29 04:24:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/682730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lois88/pseuds/lois88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The day had started with a picnic in the park - this is how it ended.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Afterword

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my first Fringe fic – also my first post here. Haven’t really written anything – or rather finished writing anything - since Smallville ended. Fringe made me want to be creative again, though. So this is my take on the finale – hope you like it. Reviews of any kind will be very much appreciated.

As it turned out, getting her daughter into the bathtub had been a lot easier than anticipated – getting her into her pajama’s and eventually into bed, however, seemed to prove a more difficult task.

After lifting the splashing child out of what was left of the water – most of it drenching her own clothes and covering the bathroom floor around the tub – Olivia barely had had the time to put the favorite purple bathrobe around Etta’s shoulders, before the little girl had managed to escape her mother’s grasp and fled out of the bathroom adjoining her parent’s bedroom, dashing for the giant bed across from the built in fireplace.

Still kneeling on the soggy bathmat, Olivia let out a heavy sigh, grabbing for the towel she had intended to use to dry her daughter’s hair. “Etta, come back here!”

The three-year-old didn’t even pretend to listen. Instead, she crawled on top of her parent’s bed, attempting to turn the box spring into her own personal trampoline – just like she tried every chance she got, usually causing only half-hearted attempts to stop her from her mildly grinning father or a stern look from her unnerved mother.

God, she hated always being the bad guy, but every time Peter did so much as try to discipline his little angel, he looked as though it caused him physical pain.

Therefore used to her role, Olivia joined her daughter in the bedroom, grabbing hold of her long enough to dry her curly blonde locks with the towel, searching Etta’s look. “You have to stop doing this, Baby, or you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

Apparently in one of her more challenging moods today, the girl put on the patented Bishop-pout, bouncing away from her mother’s arms once again, pushing one of the throw pillows onto Olivia’s bedside table, which resulted in an ominous cracking sound, causing both of them to flinch.

Etta peeked over the edge of the bed, suddenly looking more like a dear caught in the headlights than the stubborn little Bishop from seconds before, her gaze on her mother’s broken jewelry box.

“Henrietta!” Olivia reprimanded her, kneeling down once again to estimate the damage. Nina had gifted the box to her after her high school graduation – or so she had been told – and while it wasn’t anything fancy or overly expensive, it had always meant a great deal to her because she knew it had once belonged to her surrogate’s own mother.

“I’m sorry, Mommy”, Etta let out in a suddenly very small voice, her lower lip quivering.

Her mother shook her head, trying not to let the child see how upset she was, since making her daughter cry was about the last thing on earth Olivia Dunham would ever want to do. “It’s okay, Baby. I’m sure your Daddy will be able to fix it. Just promise me to stop jumping on our bed. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I promise.” Now plopped down in the middle of the giant bed, her voice sounded even more tearful.

Olivia put the broken wooden box back on the nightstand before moving on to pick up what little jewelry she possessed from the floor. Other than her wedding band and her mother’s cross, she didn’t really wear any – in fact, she had gone so far as to forbid Peter from buying her an engagement ring all those years back. It wasn’t as if she had been about to wear anything gaudy to work every day anyway, and with their mortgage and a baby on the way, the money could have been used on a lot more important things. Peter had proceeded by surprising her with an “engagement nursery”, having prepared their daughter’s room with meticulous care, before asking for her hand surrounded by an entire zoo of stuffed animals.

Up to that day, she had been sure she couldn’t possibly love him any more than she already did – she had been wrong.

But even so, there were some pieces in her collection she wouldn’t want to miss, even though she never wore them. Her own mother’s engagement ring, for example, which she hoped to give to Etta one day, or the charm bracelet Peter had presented to her after she had given birth, each charm self-made by him and symbolizing a fringe event they had battled together – and really, she loved it, but couldn’t really wear it in public.

All those memories lightening her mood back up, Olivia reached for one last silver chain hidden under the bed, getting a hold of the pendant her husband had insisted on keeping around even after it had gone through her frontal lobe that one time. The bullet that saved the world …

She pulled it up to admire it, knowing the sight always brought a probably unhealthy smile to her lips, because not only did she survive the ordeal of that day, she also found out about her pregnancy.

Today however, the smile wouldn’t come. Her daughter’s first sonogram didn’t flash before her eyes. She didn’t see Peter grinning like a lovesick fool in the hospital, pulling her to him as though he would never let her go again.

What she saw wasn’t joy or happiness. It was terror and destruction. It was a dying world ruled by an oppressive force, a population that had lost all hope and a war that couldn’t be won.

She saw her husband’s face, every trace of emotion gone from it, a look in his eyes that broke her in half. She saw her father-in-law, desperate to hold onto memories he no longer had to do the impossible and save the world once more. She saw Nina, slumped into her wheelchair, blood oozing out of the self-inflicted head-wound.

And she saw her. She saw her, her perfect little baby girl, changed beyond recognition, all innocence lost in a world that had forged her into a weapon. She saw her baby draw a gun and shoot without hesitation, kill without mercy, torture a man out of decades of his life without so much as a second thought. She saw a Henrietta Bishop that had been hardened by war, her copious amount of inner strength the only thing holding her upright – until it had run out.

Olivia sank to her knees, the breath knocked out of her lungs, the bullet still clutched between trembling fingers. She saw that very same bullet now, saw it lying on the dirty ground in front of her more than twenty years in the future even though it felt as if that had happened mere hours ago. She could practically feel the cortexiphan rush through her veins in that moment, the sound of Windmark’s body squashed between two armored cars ringing in her ears when all she could see were her daughter’s bloody fingers, offering her own necklace back to her while the light in her beautiful blue eyes slowly faded away.

She remembered the quiet despair she had felt in that moment that had now never happened, remembered her husband, her very own pillar of strength, crumbling into a shell of his former self while rocking his daughter’s body in his arms.

She remembered truly losing everything she had ever held dear in her entire life – and for the shortest of moments, she remembered wanting to die.   

“Mommy, I’m sorry. I swear I’m not gonna do it again, but please stop crying!”

Her daughter’s sobbing voice bringing her back to reality, Olivia looked up from the floor, only now realizing the unstoppable tears streaming down her own cheeks, mirroring Etta’s.

Etta …

Her beautiful little baby girl, three years old and innocent once again, her bright blue eyes full of tears, but also so full of energy and love … so full of life again that the mere sight could mend a mother’s once broken heart within a split second.

Scrambling onto the bed, Olivia took her daughter into her arms, pulled her into her lap and pressed kisses onto her forehead, trembling fingers wiping away the tears. “Shhh … it’s okay, Baby, it’s okay. Everything is gonna be okay now. Mommy is here and I promise you, I’m not going anywhere. And neither are you, got it?”

Calmed down by her mother’s embrace and the soothing rocking motion, the girl looked up, searching Olivia’s face that was still overflowing with tears. “Then why are you crying?”

Laughing at the seemingly reasonable question, her mother pulled her even closer, pressing another kiss to the top of her head. “Because I’m happy.”

The words seemed foreign to her mind – how could she possibly be happy? How could she be in her bedroom, in her house, in the year 2015 and be happy?

Different memories started flooding her overactive brain then. Michael, September, time-travel … Walter.

… Walter taking Michael’s hand and leading him through the portal into the future. A future he would now be stuck in, sacrificing his life with his family so that his son could have his daughter back … so that she could have her daughter back.

Her husband in the car beside her, smiling again for the first time in ages, pressing the deformed bullet into her outstretched hand …

She remembered her nightmare then – Etta vanishing right before her eyes in the middle of an Observer invasion. She also remembered Etta running happily into Peter’s arms only hours before while she looked on with a smile.

It worked …

… meaning Walter was gone.

*

She was out of the room and down the stairs in seconds, still clutching Etta in her bathrobe with her air-dried hair to her chest so tightly the kid was starting to squirm.

That was how she found her husband, broken down on the kitchen floor with his back against the counter, a crumpled piece of paper in his fist, a couple of unopened letters on the floor in front of him. When he looked up at the both of them with a strained smile, Olivia saw the unshed tears in his eyes.

“It worked”, she simply stated, crouching down on the floor beside him, passing the child she had just sworn to never let go off again over to her father without any hesitation. He needed her more right now.

Without saying a word, Peter clutched his daughter to his chest, his hand reaching into her long blonde hair – just like the last time he had held her like this, 21 years in the future when all he had wanted to do was die right there with her – and his tears finally began to fall, Etta’s body rocking with her father’s every silent sob.

Olivia put her arms around the both of them, noticing the outright terrified look her daughter started to get. She had never seen her father cry before, hardly ever noticed her mother shed a single tear. They both always tried to keep her away from those kinds of outbursts, conscious of the fact that their little angel had always been way more perceptive when it came to her parents’ emotional states than any three-year-old should be. There was simply no need to traumatize her even further.

But none of that mattered right now. Not when they had just changed yet another timeline, not when they were together in a world that wasn’t being invaded, not when they had just gotten their daughter back, not when Walter was stuck in another time without any chance to ever get back to them.

“Daddy?” Etta finally asked, putting her chubby little hands on either side of his head, causing him to look up at her with a smile. “Are you happy, too?”

Swallowing down the lump in his throat, Peter looked from her to Olivia and back again, finally letting go off the crumpled piece of paper in his hand. “I’m sitting here with my two favorite girls in the world. Why wouldn’t I be?”

One arm around his daughter he stretched out a hand for Olivia’s, taking the necklace she was offering him. “We’ve got something for you, Kiddo.”

After putting the chain over the child’s head, he held up the pendant for Etta to see. She followed his every movement with curious eyes. “See this? I know it might not look like much, but this little piece of metal helped save the entire world – twice. Promise me, every time you feel sad about something, every time the world lets you down, you will look at this bullet and remember that no matter what happens, your Mom and I love you and will always be here for you. And you will remember your Grandpa Walter and how much he too loves you, okay?”

Olivia noticed the slight tremble in Peter’s voice at the mention of Walter’s name, but Etta apparently didn’t, too engrossed with the gift her father had just given her, rolling the bullet between her little fingers like it was the best thing she could have ever wished for, even though she couldn’t possibly grasp the meaning of her father’s words.

And of course, it was.

Peter watched her play with it for a few minutes – mesmerized by just how much she already seemed to him like the grown-up woman of 24 years who had done just that every time life had thrown her another curve ball. That bullet had given his little girl strength in a world where he hadn’t been there for her – and he swore right this second to himself, his wife and his little angel that he would rather let the entire universe and the next one go to hell before he let anything like that ever happen again. There really were no other entities out there he would still consider making promises to.

The only people really able to make a change in the world were right there on the kitchen floor with him – or trapped over a hundred years in the future.

Swallowing down another onslaught of tears, Peter vowed to never forget his father’s sacrifice. Thanks to Walter, his family had gotten another chance. The perfect little soul in his arms now finally had a shot at a normal life. She would grow up loved and cherished, in a free world that wouldn’t force her to become a soldier.

Grabbing Olivia’s still outstretched hand, he squeezed it reassuringly, bringing both of his girls closer into a group hug. “No matter what, we’re gonna be okay”, he promised the both of them, pressing a kiss to Etta’s forehead, his arm around his wife’s shoulders.

They were going to be okay …

*

After the rather emotional early evening hours, it had taken forever to calm the three-year-old down enough to get her to bed. Peter had cooked them dinner and afterwards surprised Etta with his patented ice cream sundaes topped off with strawberry sauce, just like she liked them, while they had all settled in front of the TV for the latest Disney movie the girl had been dying to see for ages.

Of course, Etta had ended up falling asleep mid-movie, leaving her parents cuddled up on the couch with her, content to just be with her a little longer until the credits eventually rolled.

Then Peter proceeded to carry her up the stairs without waking her up, Olivia tucking her in while he watched with a smile – until a ringing phone ripped the both of them out of their little slice of heaven.

When Peter eventually came back after finishing the call, he found his wife still in his little girl’s room, sitting on the floor with her back against Etta’s dresser, her look still trained on the sleeping child underneath a mountain of pink bedspreads in the canopy bed he had built himself after his daughter had outgrown her crib – what seemed like forever ago now.

Leaning against the dresser himself and slowly sliding down to sit beside Olivia, he held up his phone with a sigh. “Astrid.”

His wife tore her gaze away from their daughter for a moment. “What did she say?”

Peter swallowed, his look trained forward again. “That she went to the lab to check on Walter and couldn’t find him anywhere. But there was a tape on his desk addressed to me.”

“She doesn’t remember,” Olivia concluded. “What did you tell her?”

“That she shouldn’t worry and that I’m gonna explain tomorrow. Any suggestions as to how?”

Olivia rested her head against his shoulder, letting out a sad chuckle. “We’re gonna have to tell her the truth sooner or later, so … the sooner the better. Who knows, maybe her memories will come back anyway …”

“What are we going to tell Etta, though?” Peter suddenly perked up, his daughter’s Hello Kitty nightlight bathing his face in an ominous glow. “How could we possibly explain?”

His wife snuggled closer, linking her arm through his. “We’ll think of something – make sure she knows that her Grandpa Walter is alive and well and working on a very important project to keep us all safe.”

Peter nodded imperceptibly, his gaze still on their sleeping child. “What if … what if she remembers?”

Olivia’s head shot up, eyes staring up at him under furrowed brows. “You think …” It was too painful for her to say out loud.

“She’s our daughter, Liv. Born from parents out of two different universes – after her father has been erased from time altogether. I’d honestly be surprised if she didn’t wake up one day and just know.” Despite everything, a small smile appeared on the young father’s face. “And even if she doesn’t, I still think we should tell her eventually, when she’s old enough.”

His wife just looked at him incredulously. “You wanna tell our daughter that we had to watch her die in a dystopian future not too far from now?”

He shook his head, his eyes still on Etta. “I want her to know that if it wasn’t for her, that dystopian future could have never been prevented. That her grandfather sacrificed himself to the unknown so that she could live. That if she hadn’t fought so hard her entire life, we would still be stuck in that amber and the world would have eventually stopped spinning. She saved the world and deserves to be proud of it.”

Olivia shifted her gaze back to her daughter, imagining the grown-up version before her for a second. The hardened look in her daughter’s eyes … she never wanted to see it there again. But that Etta had also lived with a purpose in life only few people could ever claim for themselves. She had known what she had been fighting for, what she had inevitably died for. And she had done so gladly, with the hope for a better future.

Her husband was right, she deserved to know … even if Olivia still hoped her little girl would never actually remember. But she would know what she was capable of, to truly appreciate the future she helped create, for herself and the world.

“She will be”, the young mother finally conceded. “She will know exactly how amazing she is.”

Peter smiled. “She is, isn’t she? We make extraordinary children.” Looking up to his wife, he hesitated for a second, not sure whether he should voice his thought.

“What?” Olivia raised an eyebrow at him, familiar with that particular look of his.

Considering his options for a moment longer, he eventually shook his head. “Nothing. It’s late. We should probably go to bed. If memory serves right, Etta will rattle at our bedroom door at the first light of dawn tomorrow morning.”

Her frown increasing, the blonde in his arms knew he was holding back, but decided to let it go for now, simply nodding in agreement. “Yeah, we should …”

Neither made any attempt to move from the spot, though. If anything, Olivia snuggled up to her husband even further, bringing his arm around her shoulders to make them both more comfortable. Finally settled, she let out a content sigh, stretching her legs out in front of herself, her eyes still on the sleeping Etta.

Peter just smiled at her unusual cuddliness, happy to oblige to her every whim, especially tonight. It wasn’t as if either one of them wanted to let their daughter out of their sight in the foreseeable future. Not that they did voice those concerns out loud, no …

But he knew she was just as afraid to go to bed as he was. Afraid to go to sleep in each other’s arms in their bedroom just down the hall from where their little angel slept soundly, only to wake up on uncomfortable cots in the backroom of his father’s Harvard lab in 2036 and realize that it had all been a beautiful dream, that the world was still ending, that Etta was still …

Peter shook his head. He would rather stay awake for the rest of his life than allow himself to finish that thought. They wouldn’t leave their daughter’s room tonight, though, that much was certain.

“Peter …” Olivia suddenly invaded the dark cloud above his head.

He turned toward her, motioning for her to continue.

“Full disclosure – what were you going to say earlier?” Curiosity had gotten the better of her, missing the particularly happy look on his face from only minutes before.

Her question having the desired effect, her husband’s forced smile turned into a full-fledged grin. “Well, I have just been thinking – and don’t freak out now – about that certain little tribe of Bishops we used to talk about back in the day … you know, before all hell broke loose. I remember I had you close to consider trying for number two. Probably wasn’t more than a couple of days ago, in fact.”

Suppressing a grin of her own, Olivia nodded pensively. “A couple of days and 21 years.”

Peter nodded. “I know, but we’ve just established just how important our progeny could prove to the future of the world at large – so a couple more Dunham-Bishops running around couldn’t hurt, right? Who knows when humankind will need saving again.”

His wife let out a chuckle, mindful not to wake Etta. “Wow, lofty reasons just to get lucky, Mr. Bishop.”

The brightness in his eyes lessened somewhat, his tone getting gentler. “Hey, I’m not suggesting we try to get pregnant right this second, but …”

“Soon”, Olivia finished for him, taking him by surprise. “I know that we just got our lives back, Peter. I realize that we owe it to ourselves, to our family, to make the most of it. What better way to do that than another little you-and-me?”

His grin back in place, Peter leaned forward to capture his wife’s lips with his own. When he leaned back again – a little later than he had initially intended – he noticed her flushed cheeks and slightly quickened breathing not without some satisfaction. “Well, aren’t you just full of surprises tonight, Agent Dunham?”

Leaning her forehead against his, Olivia shrugged her shoulders. “I have been thinking about it a lot, to be honest. What we talked about at the side of the road that day … about taking our second chance – well, third chance now, I guess – and I really want to, Peter. I’m not conflicted anymore. And no matter what destiny has in store for us, we will always be parents first. The rest of the world will just have to get in line.”

Nodding in agreement, her husband brushed his lips over hers once more. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

Nestled up to each other, they both turned their attention back to the miraculously still sleeping three-year-old in her canopy bed, her little arms around the stuffed cow Walter had somehow managed to procure for her last birthday – only one month and five days ago. The last gift she would ever remember receiving from her grandfather …

But their little girl was alright, she would still be with them in the morning, no Observer would ever come and take her away from them this time around. And she would eventually find out that Walter’s sacrifice made all of that possible in the first place.

“So, what do you think, a boy or a girl this time?” Peter asked not without unbridled joy shining in his eyes. “Etta has been begging us for a little sister for ages.”

Olivia rolled her eyes. “She’s also been badgering us about a pet monkey – you gonna cave in about that, too?”

Her husband just chuckled, already imagining another little Olivia-copy running around the house after her big sister, directly followed by a little boy with his own brown curls. Yeah, for the first time in what felt like forever, he knew that everything would turn out just fine for his family. They had gotten another chance – life was suddenly full of promise again.

And Peter Bishop knew and would always know that he had his father to thank for it.

 

                                     

The end        

 


End file.
